


Jurassic Park

by mabschariot



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Jurassic Park Fusion, Canon-Typical Violence, Dinosaurs, Eventual Smut, F/F, Romance, Survival
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-24
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2020-09-25 19:09:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20376643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mabschariot/pseuds/mabschariot
Summary: Paleontologists Wynonna and Waverly Earp and mathematician Doc Holliday are among a select group chosen to tour an island theme park populated by dinosaurs created from prehistoric DNA. While the park's mastermind, billionaire Randy Nedley, assures everyone that the facility is safe, they find out otherwise when various ferocious predators break free and go on the hunt.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've never written fan fiction before. Until Wynonna Earp, I honestly didn't know what fan fiction was. BUT I started reading a ton of it to get through the off-seasons. And you all made it look so fun. So I decided to try an experiment. And this complete nonsense is what I ended up with: the Jurassic Park AU literally no one asked for.
> 
> Universal Studios, if you see this, I straight up pulled entire sections of text directly from the script at various points throughout. I promise it's just for funsies. I'm not making any money. Pretty please don't sue me.

**ISLA NUBlAR**

**120 MILES WEST OF COSTA RICA**

A yellow eye peered out from between the slats of a large metal crate, darting from side to side. Calculating.

Men in tactical gear carrying rifles traipsed through the dense foliage of the jungle under piercing searchlights as the crate was carefully lowered into the tall grass with a thud.

A deafening roar rose up from the jungle. And the trees began to shake as something large plowed through them and burst into the clearing. A forklift. The machine pushed forward into the back end of the crate, shoving it across the jungle floor toward an impressive fenced enclosure with a guard tower at the far end and a loading gate at the front.

The forklift slid the crate firmly against the opening with a metallic clang. And slowly, the door to the enclosure was lifted. A hush fell over the men. 

Quietly, but with purpose, a tall redhead with a tight French braid and a stony expression strode forward and took her place at the front of the group. “All right now, pushers. Loading team, move in.”

Her brief movement agitated whatever was inside and the entire crate began to shudder as growls poured out through the slats. The men inched away with widened eyes. But the woman in charge called them back.

“Steady now, boys. Get back in there and push. Don’t let her know you’re afraid.”

The men returned to their positions and carefully maneuvered the crate until it locked in place and the light on the side of the loading pen switched from red to green.

The redhead placed both hands on her buckle and nodded. “We’re locked. Loading team, step away. Lonnie, raise the gate.”

The lanky young man climbed to the top of the crate as the riflemen took their places along each side, cracking their stun guns and sending arcs of current through the air.

Just as Lonnie lifted the door, a roar from inside the crate startled him and he tumbled to the ground. In all the commotion, the creature inside lurched into the walls of the crate, dislodging it from the holding pen. An alarm buzzer screeched and an enormous claw slashed out, sinking into Lonnie’s ankle, dragging him toward the dark mouth between the crate and the pen.

Lonnie’s screams echoed into the night. The redhead was the first to move, leaping after him, trying to pull him free of the creature’s grasp. “Tasers, get in there, goddamn it! Shoot her!”

The riflemen fired their stun guns into the crate, flashing and crackling, but they were too late. Lonnie's hand slipped out of the redhead’s grip, and just like that, he was gone.

* * *

**MANO DE DIO AMBER MINE**

**DOMINICAN REPUBLIC**

Robert Svane, sporting a bespoke suit and a slick hundred dollar haircut, approached the shore on a raft being pulled across the river by two ferrymen.

Waiting on the hillside to greet him was an older man with salt-and-pepper hair clad in somewhat more climate-appropriate attire. “A thousand pesos says he falls,” whispered the man to one of the dock workers.

As Robert finally pulled up to the dock, the ferrymen stepped out to help him ashore.

“Hola! Mr. Svane,” said the older man, reaching his hand out to shake. “Juan Carlo. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

“Hola. Bienvenido,” said Robert through clenched teeth. He tried in vain to brush away several streaks of dirt from his suit jacket.

“If you’ll follow me this way, I’ll show you the mine.”

Dozens of shirtless workers picked and scraped at the rocky mountainside of the extensive mining operation. Robert followed warily, trying not to bump in to anything or anyone. “What’s this I hear at the airport? Nedley's not even here?”

“He sends his apologies,” said Juan.

“You’re telling me that we’re facing a twenty million dollar lawsuit from the family of that injured worker and Nedley couldn’t even be bothered to see me?”

“He had to leave early to be with his daughter. She’s getting a divorce.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, but we’d be well advised to deal with this situation now. The insurance company—Oof!” One of Robert’s oxfords caught on a protruding rock and he stumbled forward. Fortunately, Juan was standing close enough to reach out and steady him before he could fall completely. After straightening himself out, Robert ran both hands over his gelled hair, tucking errant strands back into place. “As I was saying, the underwriters of the park feel the accident raises some very serious questions about the safety of the entire project, and they're making the investors very anxious. I had to promise I would conduct a thorough on-site inspection. And I intend to do just that.”

“Nedley hates inspections. They slow everything down,” said Juan, continuing on their path.

“Mr. Carlo, if they decide to pull the funding, you can rest assured things are going to slow down around here.” 

Suddenly, a wiry young man covered in dirt scurried up to them. “Chief,” he said between breaths, “we found another mosquito in the same place.”

“Are you sure? Show me,” said Juan as he scrambled to follow the young man deeper into the mine. “It seems like it’s going to be a good day after all,” Juan called out over his shoulder to Robert. “Try and keep up.”

Deep within the belly of the cave under flickering lamps, a circle of miners gathered together. Juan and Robert pushed their way to the center of the group to get a better look. One of the men carefully handed Juan a small chunk of translucent amber about the size of a golf ball.

Robert, slightly out of breath and looking more annoyed than before, tried to continue their previous conversation. “Look, Juanito. If two experts sign off on the island, the insurance guys’ll back off. I already got John Henry Holliday to agree, but they think he’s a bit too . . . eccentric. They want the Earps.”

“The Earps? You’ll never get Wynonna out of Purgatory.”

“And why's that, pray tell?”

“Because, Mr. Svane. She’s like me,” said Juan as he held the amber up to the light, revealing an enormous entombed mosquito inside. “She’s a digger.”

* * *

**BADLANDS**

**ALBERTA, CANADA**

A cool breeze blew in from the north, scattering some of the loosened gravel from a partially revealed jaw bone sticking out from the valley floor. A group of diggers swept carefully over the surface of the bones with camel hair brushes, while others picked around the edges with rock hammers. The fossilized skeleton was beginning to take shape. And the sun wasn’t even overhead yet.

A tall brunette with hair for days crouched down to get a closer look at the freshly cleared section of the dig site. “Four skeletons in such a small area . . .”

“You think they died together?” answered a shorter woman in a red flannel shirt tied together at the midriff. 

“Certainly looks that way.”

“If they died together, they lived together. Doesn’t that suggest some kind of social order?” asked the shorter woman as she ran both hands up her forearms to bunch the sleeves at her elbows. 

“It suggests that they hunted in packs. But I’m not getting my hopes up yet. We’re never this lucky.”

“Wynonna. Good things happen sometimes.”

“Not to me.”

Before the woman in red could respond, a man called out from above. “Waverly! Wynonna! We’re ready to try again.”

Wynonna stood and stretched her back with a heavy sigh. “I hate computers.”

Waverly smiled back and gently clapped Wynonna on the shoulder. “I think the feeling’s mutual.”

Exposed outcroppings of crumbling limestone stretched out for miles in every direction. Not a tree or bush in sight. It was hard to believe just 270 kilometers to the west lay the lush and rugged landscape of Banff National Park. The ground was checkered with excavations in progress. Waverly and Wynonna marched toward base camp where a dozen or so volunteers had congregated near a slew of large canvas tents flapping in the breeze. 

A flatbed truck loaded with wooden pallets and other equipment was parked on a ledge in the distance near a mobile home. And several children ran around behind the main tent, getting a little too close to one of the dig sites. One boy in particular actually managed to kick some dirt onto one of the tarps.

“What’s that kid doing? Hey, excuse me! That’s fragile! Seriously, where are your parents?”

“Wynonna, breathe.”

“Breathe? Baby girl, did you see what he just did? Little asshole,” she mutter. “Why do they have to bring their kids out here?”

“Well, you could have hired some more actual help. But there are four summers of work to do, and we only have the money for one. When you work with volunteers, sometimes you get volunteers with children. You’ve either got to shell out or shut up.”

_ “Shell out or shut up,”_ Wynonna mocked.

“Real mature, Wynonna.”

_ “Real mature, Wynonna.”_

“Yer a doctor, for Christ’s sake.”

_“Yer a doc—” _but before she could finish, a man called out from inside the tent.

“We’re ready if you are!”

Wynonna cleared her throat. “Be right there, Jerry!”

Under the large canopy, a group of volunteers clustered around a computer terminal.

Outside, a young man climbed on top of a machine that looked a lot like a floor buffer. “Ready. Set. Fire!” he shouted. The entire thing hopped into the air as it drove a lead pellet deep into the earth with tremendous force. The ground vibrated and all eyes turned to the computer screen.

“How long does it usually take?” asked Waverly.

“It should be immediate return,” said Jerry. “You shoot the radar into the ground, and the bone bounces back . . .”

The screen suddenly came to life. Yellow contour lines traced across it in three waves, detailing a complete dinosaur skeleton.

“This new program is incredible. A few more years of development and you won’t even have to dig anymore,” said Jerry in awe.

Wynonna looked like someone just kicked her puppy. “Well, where’s the fun in that?” she mumbled. 

“It looks a little distorted, but I don’t think that’s the computer.” said Jerry.

Waverly shook her head. “No. Postmortem contraction of the posterior neck ligaments. Velociraptor?”

Wynonna removed her aviators. “Good shape, too. Five. Six feet high. I’m guessing nine feet long. Look at the—” She pointed to part of the skeleton, but when her finger touched the screen, the entire thing went blank and the computer beeped angrily. She pulled her hand away as if she’d been scalded. “What’d I do?”

“You touched it. I’m afraid my sister is not machine compatible,” Waverly said to the group.

“They’ve got it in for me,” said Wynonna, exasperated. As the screen reloaded with the correct image, she continued. “Look at the half-moon shaped bone in the wrist. It’s no wonder these guys learned how to fly.”

The crowd began to snicker.

“Now, seriously. Show of hands. How many of you have read my book?”

Everyone stopped laughing and looked away. Except for Waverly, who raised her hand supportively. 

“Of fucking course. Well, all I’m saying is, maybe dinosaurs have more in common with present-day birds than reptiles. Look at the pubic bone. It’s turned backward, just like a bird. The vertebrae, full of air sacs and hollows, just like a bird. Even the word raptor means 'bird of prey.’”

The little boy from earlier, who had kicked the sand onto one of the dig sites, stepped forward. “That doesn’t look very scary.”

There was a collective gasp as the group parted, leaving the boy standing alone in the middle. Wynonna turned slowly to face him.

“More like a six-foot turkey, if you ask me.”

The volunteers chuckled awkwardly. But Wynonna wasn’t going to let this go.

“A turkey?” she laughed, incredulous. Then straightened out her shoulders and walked toward him. 

“Here we go,” said Waverly under her breath.

“Now, try to imagine yourself in the cretaceous period. You get your first look at this six-foot turkey as you enter a clearing. He moves like a bird, bobbing his head. And you keep still because you think maybe his visual acuity is based on movement, like a T-rex. He won’t notice you if you don’t move. But no. Not velociraptor. You stare at him. And he just stares right back. And that’s when the attack comes. Not from the front, but from the side. The other two raptors you didn’t even know were there.” 

Wynonna circled the boy like a predator playing with her food. “Evidence suggests velociraptor is a pack hunter, you see. He uses coordinated attack patterns. And he’s out in force today. And he slashes at your with this.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a fossilized raptor claw.

"A six inch retractable claw, like a razor, on the middle toe. They don’t bother to bite the jugular, like a lion. No. They just slash here.” She gestured across the boy’s chest. “Or here.” Across his groin.

“Jesus, Wynonna,” groaned Waverly.

“—or maybe across the belly, spilling your intestines.” Wynonna, still holding the enormous claw, grinned devilishly and leaned over, bracing a hand on each knee. "The point is, kiddo, you are alive when they start to eat you.”

The boy looked as if he was either going to cry or throw up.

“So, you know, maybe try to show a little respect.” And with that, she walked back across the camp, returning to the skeleton she had been busy excavating. And Waverly chased after her. 

“You know, if you really wanted to scare that kid, you could have just pulled peacemaker on him. It would have been faster.”

“That gun hasn’t worked in years. Besides, people tend to frown on that sort of thing. I just . . . I can’t believe you actually want one of those.”

“Well, not that one, specifically. But yeah, possibly, having one at some point in the future could be a good thing. What’s wrong with kids?”

“Baby girl, they’re noisy. They’re messy. They’re expensive.”

“So are you!”

“They smell.”

“Oh my god, Nonna. They do not smell.”

“Some of them smell. Babies smell!”

Waverly was about to argue back when a sudden strange wind picked up, churning dust into the air. A helicopter appeared overhead and began to descend into camp, blowing sand and gravel over the exposed bone they had worked so diligently to uncover.

“Holy moly! Get some canvasses! Cover it up!” shouted Waverly, waving her arms. 

But Wynonna had already rushed to the site, dragging a sheet over it and staking it down. “Jesus tap-dancing Christ! Shut it down!” she screamed. 

The helicopter landed near the mobile home, and the pilot was already on the ground, waiting, as Wynonna stormed up, ready to tear someone’s head off. She gestured wildly for him to cut the power on the chopper, but the pilot simply pointed toward the trailer, which they used as office space. She marched inside and slammed the door.

Along every available surface were bone specimens neatly laid out, tagged, and labeled. The walls were lined with several shelving units holding ceramic dishes, crocks, and other jars of bone soaking in acid and vinegar. Across the room was a dusty couch lined with stacks of paper sitting snuggly next to an ancient refrigerator. A stout man’s backside stuck out of the fridge as he rooted around inside, oblivious to Wynonna’s presence.

“Just what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

The old man jerked around in surprise and popped the cork on an expensive bottle of champagne, causing it to spill over. “Ah ha. There you are.”

“Hey, we were saving that!” growled Wynonna, who stared incredulously at the odd little man in her kitchen who had shown up without invitation, apparently to steal her good bubbly.

“For today, I guarantee it.”

“And who in the ever loving fuck do you think you are?”

“Randy Nedley. And it’s a pleasure to finally meet you in person, Dr. Earp.”

Wynonna shook his hand, dumbstruck.

“Randy . . . Nedley?”

Nedley looked around the trailer approvingly, taking stock of the enormous amount of work being recorded and cataloged. “I can see my fifty grand a year is being well spent.”

The door slammed open again as Waverly barged in, just as pissed off as Wynonna had been. “Okay, who’s the jerk?”

“Uh, this is our paleobotanist, Dr. Waverly Earp. Waverly, this is Mr. Nedley,” she said, elbowing Waverly lightly in the ribs. “Randy Nedley.”

“Ohhhh. Did I say jerk?”

“I sure am sorry for the dramatic entrance, but I’m in a bit of a pickle, you see. Let’s all have a skosh of this wine and I’ll tell you exactly what I came for?” Randy began to walk around the kitchen, rifling through cupboards for glasses and making himself at home. Waverly followed, trying to help. But he shooed her away. “Now, now. I know my way around a kitchen. Please sit.” 

Wynonna plopped down on a stool near the counter and ran a quick hand through her wind-blown tresses.

Nedley set down three mismatched coffee mugs and poured generously into each. “We can’t let it get warm now. There’s nothing worse than warm champagne. Except maybe the great chili cook-off debacle of ’06. But we don’t talk about that if we can help it.” He moved with a slight limp and carried a cane with him, though neither Waverly nor Wynonna could tell if it was for balance or style. 

Wynonna looked to Waverly and shrugged. “Bottoms up, I guess.”

“Clink,” said Waverly, as she downed the entire glass as well. 

“Well now, I’ll get straight to the point. I like you. Both of you. I can tell instantly with people. Always been a gift.” He sighed and shifted his weight, as though maybe his hip was bothering him. “I own an island. Off the coast of Costa Rica. I leased it from the government and spent the last five years setting up a kind of biological preserve down there. Really spectacular. Spared no expense. It makes the one I had in Kenya look like a petting zoo. I ain’t kiddin’. Our attractions are gonna make the kids lose their doughnuts.”

“And what are those?” asked Wynonna.

“Mini versions of adults, Nonna.”

But Wynonna simply rolled her eyes and jerked off into the air.

“Not just kids. For everyone,” Randy continued, ignoring the rude gesture. “We’re planning to open next year. Unless the lawyers kill me first. I never did get along with lawyers. You?”

“We, uh, don’t really know any . . .” “I had a parole officer once . . .” said Waverly and Wynonna at the exact same moment. 

“Well, I’m afraid I do. And there’s one in particular who’s become a real burr in my britches. He represents my investors. And he says they’re insisting on outside opinions.” Nedley raised a chipped mug just under his bristly mustache and slurped his champagne. 

“What kind of opinions?” asked Waverly.

“Well, your kind. Not to put to fine a point on it. Let’s face it. You’re the best in the business. The top minds in your fields. If I could just get you two to sign off on the park—you know, see it for yourselves and give a positive report—I could get back on schedule.”

“Why would anyone care what we think?” asked Wynonna. “What kind of park is this?”

Nedley’s eyes glinted. “Oh, it’s right up your alley. Look, why don’t you both come down for the weekend. I’ve got a jet standing by at Choteau.”

“That’s really not gonna work for us,” Wynonna hedged. "We just discovered two new skeletons, and—”

Nedley tipped back his mug and swallowed the rest of the wine in one shot. “I could compensate you by fully funding your dig . . .”

“—it’s just kind of a weird time for us—”

“. . . for the next three years.”

Wynonna sputtered and Waverly squeezed her hand just a little too tightly.

“Holy shit, baby girl.”

Waverly whistled as she mentally calculated the kind of money they were looking at. “So . . . Where’s the plane?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tucker is a creep. And the gang reaches Isla Nublar.

**SAN JOSE, COSTA RICA**

Wild roosters clucked and scattered out of the way of a rumbling jalopy as it pulled in to an open air cafe about a mile off the main road. A stylish blonde in an oversize sunhat and shades stepped out of the backseat, looking conspicuously American. She clutched an attaché case close and scanned the cafe furtively. 

A spindly young man in his mid-twenties sitting alone at one of the tables smirked and waved her over. “Clootie!”

She frowned and skirted through the market past an open fire pit, taking a seat next to him. “You really shouldn’t use my name.”

He laughed. “Clootie! CLOOTIE! We’ve got Clootie here!” No one looked up from their breakfast. “See, nobody cares. Nice hat, by the way. What are you trying to look like, a Bond girl? I much prefer it when a woman dresses sensibly.”

Clootie ignored him and set the case on the table. “Seven fifty. As we agreed.”

He reached out and ran a finger along the case approvingly.

“On delivery, fifty thousand more for every viable embryo. That’s one point five million. IF you can get all fifteen species off the island.”

“Oh, I’ll get them all,” he said haughtily. 

“Remember—viable embryos. They’re no use to us if they don’t survive.”

“How am I supposed to transport them?”

She reached into her purse and pulled out an ordinary can of shaving cream. “The bottom screws open. It’s cooled and compartmentalized inside. They can even check it if they want. Press the top.”

He did exactly that and a dollop of shaving cream poured out into the center of his palm. He grinned, impressed, and wiped the cream on top of a cup of Jell-O sitting on a dessert cart next to his table.

“There’s enough coolant for seventy-two hours,” Clootie continued.

“What? No menthol?” 

“Mr. Gardner, the embryos have to be back here in San Jose within three days.”

“Well, that’s entirely up to your boat captain, isn’t it. Seven o’ clock Saturday night, at the east dock. Make sure he’s got it right.”

“I’m curious, Tucker. How are you planning to beat the security?”

“I have carefully constructed an eighteen minute window, Mrs. Clootie. Eighteen minutes and Bulshar Technologies catches up on ten years of research. Your husband should love that.”

Just then, a waiter walked by and placed the check down on the table between the two of them. Tucker looked at it pointedly, then up at Clootie. “You really shouldn’t get cheap on me, Constance. That was Nedley’s mistake.”

She rolled her eyes and threw down a wad of cash.

* * *

**EN ROUTE TO ISLA NUBLAR**

The helicopter listed in a particularly sharp breeze, causing Wynonna to grip the arm rests a little tighter.

Waverly smiled knowingly and patted her sister’s hand. “We’re almost there, you big baby,” she whispered.

“Look, we’re locked inside a giant metal flying contraption, entirely at the mercy of the whims of mother nature. I think a little fear is perfectly healthy. Also, shut up.”

Across the cabin, Nedley sat next to his lawyer, Robert Svane, and a slim man dressed as if he’d just walked out of a spaghetti western, complete with handlebar mustache, snake skin boots, and a black Stetson Buffalo hat pulled low over his brow.

He eyed Waverly and Wynonna with a sly grin before leaning forward and shouting over the whir of the engine, “So, you two lovely ladies dig up dinosaurs?”

“We try to!” Wynonna shouted back, less than pleased with the way this man was eyeballing her little sister.

The man just laughed, as if the entire concept of their profession was ludicrous. Wynonna huffed and turned to look out the window.

“You’ll have to excuse Dr. Holliday over here,” said Nedley sympathetically. “He suffers from an unnatural excess of personality, especially for a mathematician.”

“Chaotician, actually. Chaotician. And you all can just call me Doc.”

Nedley rolled his eyes in contempt. 

“Randy doesn’t subscribe to Chaos. Particularly what it has to say about his little science project,” said Doc with a pronounced southern drawl.

“Aw, baloney! John Henry ain’t ever come close to explaining these concerns about my island in any semi-coherent fashion.”

“I most certainly have! Quite clearly, I reckon. It’s because of the behavior of the system in phase space.”

Nedley waved him off. “What a crock, if you’ll pardon the expression, of fashionable number crunching and not much else.” Nedley was growing more annoyed by the minute.

“Now, Randy,” said Doc, poking him repeatedly in the knee. “there’s no reason to get testy.”

“Son, I suggest you keep your hands to yourself if you wanna keep ’em,” warned Nedley.

“Dr. Earp, Waverly was it? Surely you’ve heard of Chaos Theory,” said Doc, deflecting.

Waverly shook her head. “Can’t say that I have.”

“No? Non-linear equations? Strange attractions?”

Again, she shrugged. “I’m much better with biology. And languages.”

“Well, I refuse to believe that _you_ are not familiar with the concept of attraction.”

Wynonna gagged visibly. And Doc shot her an oily grin. But Waverly just laughed at her sister’s over-protective nature.

Nedley turned to Robert Svane and gave him a disapproving glare. “I brought scientists—and you brought a cowboy.”

The helicopter shifted direction and Nedley leaned forward to peer out the windshield. “There it is.” He pointed.

They approached a small island completely ringed by a thick layer of low-lying clouds. Lush vegetation and craggy slopes peeked through the mist. The pilot positioned them over a break in the clouds and began to descend suddenly.

“Bad wind shears!” yelled Nedley over the engine. “We have to drop fast, so I suggest you hold on to something. It can get a little bumpy.”

The helicopter dropped like a stone, jostling everyone in their seats. They all clicked their seatbelts into place, except Wynonna, who inexplicably had two latches and nothing to click them into.

“What the . . . Nedley?!” she yelped, tying the two useless ends in a knot over her lap.

He paid her no mind and kept chatting casually while everyone else hung on for dear life as the helicopter continued to lurch in the updraft. “We’re planning an airstrip. On pilings extending out into the ocean. Like La Guardia, but safer.” 

Outside the windows, cliff walls raced by uncomfortably close. A giant white landing pad grew larger as the chopper plummeted toward the ground, eventually landing with a hard BUMP.

* * *

Two large, open-top jeeps roared down the hilltop away from the landing pad as the helicopter engines whined back to life and the rotors began to spin again. 

Waverly, Wynonna, and Doc road together in the front jeep with a driver who insisted they call him Champ; Nedley and Robert followed behind. An enormous gate split open, officially leading them into the park, which was entirely enclosed by a thirty-foot electrified fence peppered with warning signs, safety lights, and barbed wire.

Robert eyed the fences critically and leaned over to Nedley. “Please tell me the full fifty miles of perimeter fences are in place?”

“And the concrete moats. And the motion sensor tracking systems. Robert, I’m really gonna need you to unclench a little bit and enjoy yourself.”

“Let’s get something straight, Nedley. This is not a weekend excursion. This is a serious investigation of the stability of the island. Your investors, whom I represent, are deeply concerned. Seventy-two hours from now, if they’re not convinced,” he gestured sharply to the jeep in front of them, “I’m not convinced. I’ll shut you down, Randy.”

“Seventy-two hours from now, I’ll bet you dollars to doughnuts I’ll be accepting your apology. But for now I need you to sit back and shut up so I can see!” He shoved Robert firmly back into his chair. “This is always my favorite part.”

The jeeps wound their way along a twisting mountain path and pulled out of the dense jungle into a clearing. Waverly stared down at a leaf she’d pulled from a branch as they’d driven past. She studied the tropical plant quizzically. “Wynonna . . ."

But Wynonna wasn’t paying attention. She was too busy staring out the right side of the jeep at a group of trees towering above them. Several of the trunks were leafless—thick, gray, and bare— and it puzzled her. 

“This shouldn’t be here,” continued Waverly, never looking up.

As both jeeps slowed to a halt, Wynonna stood in her seat, peeled off her aviators, and scanned one of the trees more closely. Her eyes traveled higher and higher until she realized it wasn’t a tree trunk at all. 

“This species of vermiform has been extinct since the cretaceous period. This thing—” But before Waverly could finish, Wynonna reached over and turned her head toward the spectacle happening beside them.

Less than a hundred feet from the jeep stood an honest to god dinosaur, peacefully crunching a mouthful of branches and leaves. 

“Oh-my-god,” said Waverly, mouth agape. And all Wynonna could utter was something between a laugh and a strangled shout of joy. 

Wynonna hopped out with Waverly on her heels. “That’s a mother flipping dinosaur!” she shouted. The enormous creature continued to eat, regarding them briefly with a pleasant, unconcerned gaze. The long neck of the brachiosaur arched up as it reached for a particularly high branch.

Nedley climbed out of his jeep and stood behind the Earps. But Doc remained in the vehicle with Champ. “He did it. The crazy son of a bitch, he actually did it.”

“Damn things are lighter on their feet than you’d expect, huh?” said Champ boastfully, as though he’d had anything to do with their creation. “And they’re fast, too.”

“The movement!” shouted Wynonna. “The agility. I can’t . . . Baby girl, we can tear up the rule book on cold-bloodedness. It doesn’t apply. They’re totally wrong! This is a warm-blooded animal.”

“You’re right! This thing never lived in a swamp to support its body weight, for God’s sake!”

Several of the top branches above them ripped away as another brachiosaur stood up effortlessly on its hind legs to reach the top.

“That thing’s got a what, twenty-five, twenty-seven foot neck?” asked Wynonna.

“Brachiosaur? Oh, I’d say thirty, at least,” answered Nedley, proudly.

Robert Svane remained seated, staring reverently at the impossibility in front of him. He ran a cold hand over his grizzled beard and spoke so quietly, no one else could hear. “We’re gonna make a fortune off this place.”

A third brachiosaur approached the group rapidly, taking giant, graceful strides, and Wynonna found herself swaying as she stared toward the sky. “Sweet Jesus, the way they move. How fast are they?”

“We clocked the T-rex at thirty-two miles an hour.”

Both Wynonna and Waverly stopped and turned toward Nedley, aghast.

“You’ve got a what now?” “Come again?” blurted Waverly and Wynonna at the same time. 

“Oh, yeah. We have a T-rex.”

Wynonna felt her stomach drop and plopped down on the grass with an “oof.”

“Nonna, put your head between your knees. Deep breaths,” said Waverly soothingly.

“I don’t need yoga right now, baby girl. I need answers.”

Nedley stepped in front of them and gazed out at his masterpiece. “Wynonna, Waverly, my dear. Welcome to Jurassic Park.” The sun crept higher above them, casting warm light over the sprawling plains as an entire herd of smaller dinosaurs crossed in the distance, maybe a hundred or more.

“They’re absolutely . . . Baby girl, they’re moving in herds.” Wynonna laughed, eyes filling with unshed tears. “They do move in herds!”

“We were right!”

“Nedley,” said Wynonna, sobering, “how did you do this?”

He placed both hands on the cane in front of him. “I’ll show ya.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group tours the vistor center.
> 
> ALSO, Nicole Haught alert! (toward the end)

Both jeeps rolled in to the park’s central compound just after 1 p.m.

Approximately twenty-five kilometers south of the helicopter pad stood three impressive structures surrounded by a perimeter fence. Beyond the fence, the jungle was encouraged to grow naturally, but the grounds of the compound were well manicured. Tiered rows of prehistoric foliage lined the main staircase. And a stately pond dotted with lily pads and a golden fountain at the center glimmered in the afternoon sun.

Waverly leaned forward in the passenger seat, taking in everything around her with curious eyes, while Wynonna sat back, lost in thought. For the entire ride, Champ had rambled on ad nauseam about his harrowing work with park security, but no one in the car seemed to be paying attention. 

“This building here on the right is both a research and maintenance facility,” said Champ. “Up top we’ve got the armory, the asset loading pens, system control panels, and a guard tower. They keep all the brainiacs in the labs down below.” He started to laugh, but realized he was speaking to three scientists and quickly moved on.

“On the left here is the island’s onsite lodging, which is where you’ll be staying. Your bags will be delivered shortly. It’s still under construction, but it should be a fully functional, state-of-the art hotel by opening day. Staff quarters are in the annex out back, so you know, that’s basically where all the magic happens.” He raised his eyebrows suggestively into the rear-view mirror, which prompted Wynonna to fake vomit into her own hand and then wipe it on Doc’s sleeve, much to his disgust. 

They parked in front of the largest building in the middle, the visitor center, which towered over everything like a grand museum. Nedley hopped out first with Robert behind him and led them all up the stone steps into the lobby.

The walls were lined with scaffolding as workers continued perfecting the interior, which housed the enormous skeletons of a tyrannosaur attacking a sauropod. Nedley’s voice echoed up into the high ceiling as they climbed a wide, spiral staircase. “It really is the most advanced amusement park in the world, combining all the latest technologies. And I’m not talking rides, ya know. Everybody’s got rides. You wanna wet your shorts on a roller coast, go to Six Flags. But here, we made living biological attractions so magnificent they’ll capture the imagination of the entire planet, or my name ain’t Randy Nedley!”

Wynonna stared up at the skeletons and shook her head.

“What are you thinking?” asked Waverly in a hush.

“We’re out of a job, baby girl.”

“Don’t you mean ‘extinct’?” joked Doc, but no one laughed.

They were ushered through red double doors and into a small auditorium. “Why don’t you all have a seat while I get this thing going,” said Nedley from the front of the room, fumbling with a remote he did not look comfortable using. 

Wynonna and Waverly followed Doc into the first row, while Champ made himself comfortable next to Waverly, wrapping his arm around the back of her chair. Robert sat behind them, preoccupied with a keypad of buttons he’d discovered on the seat back in front of him. 

The projector suddenly whirred to life, lighting up the screen with a video image of Nedley. “Hey there, Randy,” said screen Nedley with a little wave. 

“Op, I’ve got lines,” said Nedley, flipping awkwardly through a stack of three-by-five cards.

He was still scanning for his place when screen Nedley continued on without him. “Oh, not so bad, I guess. But how did I get here?”

“Er, well, here, let me show you,” recited Nedley. “First, I’ll need a drop of blood. Your blood.”

Screen Nedley extended his finger to real Nedley who reached out and mimed pricking him with a needle. “Ouch, Randy. That hurt!”

“Relax. It’s all part of the miracle of cloning,” said Nedley, finally settling in to his performance. 

Screen Nedley suddenly split into two Nedleys, then four, then eight, and so on, filling the screen entirely.

“Cloning from what?” whispered Wynonna to no one in particular. “Loy extraction has never recreated an intact DNA strand!”

“Not without massive sequence gaps,” answered Doc, leaning over.

“Paleo DNA? From what source?” added Waverly. “Where exactly do you get hundred-million-year-old dinosaur blood?”

“Totally batshit, am I right?”

They all turned and stared at Champ, but before they could speak, Robert leaned forward and shushed them, clicking his teeth together in annoyance. 

At that moment, a happy-go-lucky cartoon double-helix appeared onscreen next to Nedley.

“Well now, it’s Mr. DNA! Where did you come from?”

“From your blood! Just one drop of your blood contains billions of strands of DNA, the building blocks of life! A DNA strand like me is a blueprint for building a living thing. And sometimes animals that went extinct millions of years ago, like dinosaurs, left their blueprints behind for us to find. We just had to know where to look!”

The screen changed to show an animated close-up of a mosquito, its proboscis stuck deep into some animal’s flesh, body pulsing and filling with blood. 

“A hundred million years ago, there were mosquitoes, just like today. And just like today, they fed on the blood of animals. Even dinosaurs!”

The camera pulled back to show the mosquito perched on top of a brachiosaur. Then it flew away and landed on the trunk of tree.

“Sometimes, after biting a dinosaur, the mosquito would stop for a rest and get stuck in the tree sap. After a long time, the sap would get hard and become fossilized, just like a dinosaur bone, preserving the mosquito inside!”

The image shifted again to video footage of the inside of a laboratory. Piles of amber, tagged and labeled, sat along work stations as scientists in white coats examined them under microscopes. 

“This fossilized tree sap, which we call amber, waited millions of years, with the mosquito inside, until Jurassic Park’s scientists came along. Using sophisticated techniques, they were able to extract the preserved blood from the mosquito, and—BINGO! Dino DNA.”

Wynonna sat forward, worrying her cheek at the incredible and terrible things playing out in front of her. 

“A full DNA strand contains three billion genetic codes!” continued Mr. DNA. “But because our samples are so old, they’re full of holes. And that’s where our geneticists take over. Supercomputers and gene sequencers break down the strand in minutes and virtual reality displays show our geneticists the gaps in the sequence. Since most animal DNA is ninety percent identical, we use the complete DNA of a frog to fill in the holes and complete the code. Now we can make a baby dinosaur!”

The scientists exchanged wary glances as Nedley came to join them in their seats.

“All this will have some dramatic music,” said Nedley, gesturing at the screen. “Like one of them American cop dramas, but it’s not written yet. And then the tour moves on.” He threw a switch and safety bars appeared out of nowhere and lowered over their laps, clicking into place. “It’s for your own safety, of course!” 

The rows of seats began to move, as if on a track, out of the auditorium and into a long hallway past a row of double-paned glass windows beneath a large sign that read GENETICS | FERTILIZATION | HATCHERY. Inside the lab, technicians were busy at work, staring into microscopes and moving equipment from station to station. 

Mr. DNA’s voice continued through a speaker in each seat. “Our fertilization department is where the dinosaur DNA takes the place of the DNA in unfertilized emu or ostrich eggs, and then it’s on to the nursery, where we welcome the dinosaurs back into the world.”

Robert simply could not contain his wicked grin. “This is overwhelming, Randy. Truly. People are going to pay top dollar for this. Whatever you’re thinking of charging, double it.”

Nedley simply rolled his eyes. Of course his lawyer’s awe had little to do with the scientific achievement he’d just witnessed, and everything to do with the opportunity to exploit it for as much money as possible.

“Are these characters animatronic?” asked Robert.

“No, we don’t have any animatronics here. These are the real miracle workers of Jurassic Park. Salt of the earth folks, too. They work through most holidays just to keep us on schedule. This is actually one of the few weekends a year where we run a skeleton crew. Gives the staff a chance to take a break from the island and recharge.”

“Sounds expensive,” said Robert, sneering at the idea of lost labor.

Wynonna grew restless, straining against the safety bar to get a closer look through the glass as the ride continued on. “Wait a minute! How do you interrupt the cellular mitosis?”

Waverly was squirming, too. “Can’t we see the unfertilized eggs?”

But the cars were already moving on to the next set of windows, which looked in to what appeared to be a control room.

“Easy, now. Hold your horses. We’re gonna get an overview of the facilities first,” cautioned Nedley.

Wynonna continued to struggle against the lap restraint, trying to get more of a look into the labs, but the cars were well past, showing no intention of slowing down. “Can’t you stop these things, Nedley?!”

“Sorry, kiddo. It’s kind of a ride . . .”

But Wynonna had had enough and elbowed Doc and Waverly. “Seriously, eff this. We gotta get outta here.”

The three of them braced their feet against the floor and pushed off in unison, dislodging the locking mechanism and lifting the lap bar. They leaped out of their seats, climbed over Champ, and headed toward the door of the hatchery before anyone could stop them. 

“Hey, you can’t do that!” shouted Champ. “Can they do that?”

“They just did,” answered Nedley, hitting the emergency stop button and following after them. 

Wynonna rattled the door handle wildly, but it wouldn’t budge, so she tried, unsuccessfully, to bust it open with her shoulder. “Ow.”

“Hey, hey, hey, everybody calm down. I get it. You’re scientists. You’re supposed to be curious. But there’s really no need for breaking and entering.” Nedley stepped up to the electronic key pad next to the door. “It has a retinal scan, for Pete’s sake.” He punched in a series of numbers and held his eye open in front of a flickering blue scanner.

The door clicked and then hissed open, revealing a vast, open room bathed in infrared light. Long tables ran the length of the place, all covered with eggs, their pale outlines obscured by a low mist floating through the entire room.

“All right then. Follow me,” said Nedley, leading the way. They quickly approached a young technician in a white lab coat, scribbling notes at a workbench in the corner. “Afternoon, Jeremy!”

“Oh, hey! It’s Mr. Nedley. What brings the boss man down to the floor today?”

“Well, I _was_ giving a tour, but a couple of our guests were eager for a behind the scenes look at how the sausage gets made,” said Nedley with a hint of exasperation. 

Champ chuckled quietly at the mention of sausage, but everyone ignored him.

Wynonna found herself looking down into a round, open incubator full of several eggs the size of grapefruits. And one of them was moving. A robotic arm reached over, picked up the egg, rotated it, and set it back down gently.

“Holy shit balls, would you look at that!” said Wynonna in astonishment. The group circled around.

“Oh, perfect timing! I was hoping they would hatch before everyone left for the long weekend.”

“Jeremy, why didn’t ya say something? You know I like to be here when the little one’s make their first appearance,” said Nedley, slipping on a pair of plastic gloves.

The egg began to crack open and a small reptilian head poked its nose through the shell. “Come on, then, little buddy. Out you come.” Nedley reached down and carefully broke away fragments, helping the baby dinosaur to get free. “They imprint on the first living creature they come in contact with. That helps them to trust me. I’ve been present for the birth of almost every animal on this island.”

“Surely not the ones that have bred in the wild . . . ,” said Doc incredulously. 

“Actually, they can’t breed in the wild,” said Jeremy. “Population control is one of our security precautions here. There is no unauthorized breeding in Jurassic Park.”

Waverly cast a sideways glance at Wynonna. The more she heard, the more the knot in the pit of her stomach grew. 

“With all due respect, young man, how exactly do you know they cannot breed?” asked Doc cautiously, removing his hat. 

Jeremy swallowed hard, seemingly distracted by the gentleman’s southern charm. “Well, I, um . . . It’s because all the animals in Jurassic Park are female. We—I engineered them that way,” he finished with a nod.

“Could I have a tissue please?” interrupted Nedley.

“Coming right up!” said Jeremy enthusiastically. 

The dinosaur was fully free of the shell and blinking up at them into the soft glow of the heat lamp as Nedley wiped its eyes. Robert cringed at the egg slime and subconsciously wiped his hands against his suit jacket.

Wynonna stepped closer to Nedley. “May I?”

“By all means.”

She leaned over the incubator, delicately picked up the tiny creature, and held it in the palm of her hand. “Blood temperature feels like high eighties.”

“Ninety-one, actually,” said Jeremy.

Waverly reached over and picked up the broken half-shell, but the robotic arm snatched it back and put it down. “Homeothermic? It holds that temperature?” she asked Jeremy. He nodded. “Amazeballs.”

Doc continued to look toward Nedley skeptically. “Again, please forgive me, but I would be remiss if I did not ask, how do you know they are all female? Does someone go into the park and lift up the dinosaurs’ skirts?”

Champ snickered again, but one stern look from Nedley shut him up. 

“No, of course not.” Jeremy laughed nervously. “We, uh, well, we control their chromosomes. It’s actually not that difficult. All vertebrate embryos are inherently female anyway. It takes an extra hormone at the right developmental stage to create a male, so we simply deny them that.”

“Deny them?” Doc shook his head and ran a hand through his greased hair. “Randy, the kind of control you are attempting is simply not possible. If there is one thing the history of evolution has taught us, it is that life will not be contained. Life breaks free. It expands to new territories. It crashes through barriers. Painfully, maybe even dangerously. You must see that.”

Waverly smiled almost imperceptibly at the boldness of this strange cowboy. Glad to know she wasn’t the only one with serious reservations. 

“Wait.” Jeremy hopped up onto one of the counter tops and let his feet dangle. “Are you implying that a group composed entirely of females will breed?”

Doc placed his Stetson snuggly back on his head. “I am simply stating that life finds a way.”

Jeremy opened his mouth and then promptly closed it again, unsure of how to respond.

Ignoring the others, Wynonna continued to stare down at the tiny dinosaur in her palm. She ran her finger slowly over its tail, counting the vertebrae, until her eyes opened with recognition. “What species is this?” she asked, dreading the answer. 

“It’s, uh, velociraptor,” answered Jeremy, so casually that it pissed Wynonna off.

“You bred raptors?”

Wynonna stormed across the compound with fire in her eyes, while the rest of the group struggled to keep up. 

“Wynonna, please! We planned to show you the raptor paddock tomorrow, after you had a chance to settle in,” huffed Nedley.

But Wynonna kept walking until she reached an enormous fenced enclosure, eyes scanning the trees for a glimpse of anything.

Nedley ambled up behind her, slightly out of breath. “Dr. Earp, like I was saying, we’ve got a home-cooked supper prepared this evening before you head in to explore the park tomorrow. Alejandro, our chef—”

“What are they doing?” interrupted Wynonna.

A giant crane lowered a large brown steer into the middle of the jungle foliage inside the pen. Helpless in its harness, it continued to low and flail its legs in the air.

“It’s feeding time. Now, like I was saying, Alejandro is preparing a special meal for us tonight. Chilean sea bass, I believe. So hows about we eat first, and ask questions later?”

Wynonna hopped up to the viewing deck to get a better look. The others followed, just as the steer disappeared into the dense shroud of trees. For a moment, the jungle fell silent and the line from the crane hung taut. Until suddenly it jerked, like a fishing pole getting a bite, and then the frenzy began.

Branches snapped and trees bent as the crane line swiveled and tugged in every direction, creaking and groaning in protest. A cacophony of growls and gnashing teeth and bone crunching rose out of the thicket, but Wynonna couldn’t see anything from where she was standing. 

And then, just as quickly as it had started, the jungle grew quiet again. 

“Truly fascinating creatures,” said Nedley with a shake of his head.

Waverly looked a bit green around the gills. "Holy moly . . ."

“I want to see them. Can we get closer?” asked Wynonna. But Waverly quickly put a hand on her arm, as if calming an overexcited child. 

“Nonna, these aren’t bones anymore.”

“We’re still working out the kinks of the viewing system,” explained Nedley. “The raptors seem to be a bit . . . resistant to integration into a park setting.”

“They should all be destroyed,” called out a grim voice from behind them.

The group turned to see a tall, muscular redhead dressed in camouflage pants, a black tank top, and a shoulder holster descending the stairs of the guard tower.

“Of course,” said Nedley with a sigh. His plan to ease his guests into the park with open minds by dazzling them with automated tours and haute cuisine was rapidly unraveling. “This is Nicole. Nicole Haught, my game warden from Kenya. Bit of an alarmist, I’m afraid. But she’s dealt with the raptors more than anyone. And I trust her. Nicole, this is—”

“Doctors Wynonna and Waverly Earp. Your reputations precede you.” The redhead extended her hand confidently to greet them, taking extra care to look Waverly directly in the eye, causing her cheeks to pink slightly. A fact that was not lost on either of them. “Which must make you Doc Holliday,” she continued. “I’m afraid the Stetson gave it away.”

Doc simply tipped his hat in her direction.

“Tell me, red, what kind of metabolism do these things have? What’s their growth rate?” asked Wynonna, eager to move on from the introductions and get some real answers to her endless list of questions.

“They’re lethal at eight months. And I do mean lethal. I’ve done conservation work all over the world with animals that can hunt you, but the way these things move—”

“Fast for a biped?” asked Wynonna.

“Cheetah speed. Faster? Fifty, sixty miles per hour if they ever got out in the open. And they’re astonishing jumpers.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, that’s why we take extreme precautions,” said Nedley, trying to steer the conversation away from potential dangers. “The viewing area below us will have eight-inch tempered glass set in reinforced steel frames.”

“Do they show intelligence?” pushed Wynonna. “With the brain cavity like theirs, we always assumed—”

“They show extreme intelligence, even problem solving.” Nicole looked out into the paddock. “Especially the big one. We bred eight originally, but when she came in, she took over the pride and killed all but two of the others.”

Robert pulled his hands off of the guard rail and backed away from the edge slowly.

“That one, when she looks at you,” continued Nicole gravely, “you can see she’s thinking. Working things out. She’s the reason we have to feed them like this. She had the others attacking the fences when the feeders came.”

“But those fences are electrified, right?” asked Waverly.

Nicole smiled coolly in her direction. “That’s right. But they never attack the same place twice. They were testing the fences for weaknesses. Systematically.” The smile dropped from her face as she looked down at her muddy boots and back up. “They remember.”

A chill ran down Waverly’s spine at that revelation, and she shivered noticeably. 

“Nothing to worry about, though, doll,” said Champ, creeping in to Waverly’s personal space. “This island has one of the best security teams in the world. We’ll keep you nice and safe.”

“Barf, dude,” said Wynonna as Waverly subtly scooted away from Champ and toward her sister (and incidentally, the gorgeous redhead).

Nicole just stood back, observing the scene in front of her and taking mental notes.

Behind them, the crane whined and buzzed, raising the cable back out of the pen. All that was left was the bloody, tattered harness flapping in the breeze.

“Well!” Nedley clapped his hands together excitedly. “Who’s hungry?”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang chats over dinner. And the night is young.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while. You have my sincerest apologies for taking so long to update. Life sort of sucker punched me there for a bit. But I'm doing better now. Ironically, considering the current state of everything.
> 
> I hope you're all as safe and comfortable as you can be.
> 
> I've been reading a ton lately, and it's helped me feel closer to people during all this isolation. 
> 
> Thanks to all the fic writers out there for doing such wonderful work. You're helping us all make it through.
> 
> Consider this just another drop in the bucket.

A buffet table lined with stainless steel chafers full of piping hot food stretched out along the back wall of the visitor center dining room, which was painted like the jungle, with various dinosaur silhouettes creeping out of the tall grass. Two waiters in white coats circled the table, filling water glasses as the group finished their early dinner.

Wynonna sat next to Doc, chatting quietly about the implications of breeding deadly predators for park amusements. While at the far end of the table, Jeremy and Nedley were busy explaining gene sequencing to Champ and Robert Svane, who looked like they understood the process less and less the more it was spelled out for them.

Waverly had strategically chosen a seat on the opposite side of the table from Champ, who had gotten a little too familiar with her since their introduction that morning. She knew it was mostly harmless flirting, which she usually found entertaining. But this seemed like a good opportunity to put some space between them. And if that just so happened to land her a seat next to the sexy game warden, well, so be it. Though she did find it hard to focus on Nicole’s story because she couldn’t seem to stop herself from staring at this woman’s perfect lips. 

“. . . so if you ever find yourself building a temporary shelter in the middle of a flood zone, do not forget to write your name on the inside of your mosquito helmet.” 

“Oh, uh yeah, amateur move, Haught,” said Waverly, reaching for her glass of wine to deflect from the fact that, in all her ogling, she’d missed most of the story. But as soon as she’d grasped the stem, Nicole reached out and placed her hand over Waverly’s. 

“You know, you really don’t have to be nervous around me,” said Nicole, softly and to the point, with the kind of confidence that was so attractive it actually made Waverly a little angry.

“W-what? I’m not.” But Nicole just continued to look at her with one eyebrow raised in challenge. "I'm not. What on earth would I have to be nervous about?" 

"I don't know, you tell me."

“There’s nothing to tell. We're just . . . chatting.”

“Exactly. Low stakes.” Her grin was officially infuriating.

“More like no stakes,” said Waverly, defiantly.

“Okay, okay," said Nicole, raising her hands in surrender. "You win. I just thought, with the way you were staring, maybe something else was going on here." Waverly could feel the blush creeping up her neck at having been caught. "But who knows, maybe I’m just rusty at this. It’s been a while since I had the opportunity to show off for a beautiful stranger, living here on dinosaur island and all. Limited dating options. And I don't make it over to the mainland very often these days.” She reached for the last strawberry on her plate and bit into it nearly up to the stem, making a wonderful show of the way she licked the sweet red juice from her lips.

“Oh pleeease.”

“What?” asked Nicole, innocently.

“You’re ridiculous!”

“Why?!” But the redhead was obviously smirking.

“Are you always this . . . subtle?” asked Waverly, who was internally short-circuiting at this point.

“Well, you’re only here for three days. I can’t afford subtlety. Besides, in my line of work, you kind of have to get straight to the point. Otherwise, people get hurt.”

“And do people get hurt a lot around you?” asked Waverly playfully.

“More than I’d care to admit,” answered Nicole, whose eyes flashed to something far away for a moment, before returning to Waverly's.

“So I should be careful is what you’re saying?” Waverly said, still playing. But Nicole’s face turned serious.

“Absolutely, yes, Waverly. Whatever you do while you're here, please be careful.”

Nicole's sudden worried expression caught Waverly off guard, but before she could inquire further, Wynonna's voice cut through the din.

“So wait, none of the attractions are even finished yet?”

“Well, the park will open with the basic tour that you all are scheduled to take tomorrow morning. And then the other rides will come online after six to twelve months. Absolutely spectacular designs. Guaranteed to blow your hair back,” said Nedley with pride. He’d just been discussing projections for the first five years of the park.

Robert was grinning from ear to ear. “And we can charge anything we want! Two thousand a day, ten thousand a day—people will pay it! And then there’s the merchandizing . . .” His eyes glazed over.

“Well now, Robert, this park wasn't built just to cater to rich muckety-mucks. Everyone in the world’s got a right to see these animals.”

“It’s not a petting a zoo,” mumbled Nicole to no one in particular, but Waverly heard her. 

“Sure, sure. They will,” continued Robert, unfazed. “Maybe we can have a coupon day or something.” 

Wynonna looked down at her water glass, stamped with the Jurassic Park logo. A stack of folded park maps on the table in front of her were lined across the top with airline ads: “Fly United to Jurassic Park.” Even the napkins were branded. Everything around her had carefully and deliberately been turned into a product. And it made her skin crawl.

“Combined revenue streams for all three parks should reach ten to twelve billion dollars a year. And that’s a conservative estimate, of course. There’s no reason to get too optimistic with our projections,” finished Nedley. 

“You’re making three of these things?” asked Wynonna, beginning to piece together the actual scale of what these people were attempting. 

“Well, yeah, so long as the first one does as well as we hope."

“I’ve never been a rich man, Randy,” said Robert, practically gleeful. “I hear it’s nice. Is it nice?”

“It has its advantages.”

“The lack of humility before nature that has been displayed here staggers me,” said Doc finally, without a hint of restraint. They all turned to look at him.

“Thank you, Dr. Holliday, but I think things are little different than you and I originally feared,” answered Robert, unwilling to let anyone rain on his parade.

“Yes, I am aware. They are much, much worse.”

“How can you say that? We haven’t even seen the park yet,” snapped Robert through clenched teeth. "Let’s hold our concerns until we finish the full site inspection. I’m sorry, Randy, I never thought—”

“Oh, it’s quite all right, Robert. I wanna hear from everyone. Even kooks like Dr. Holliday.”

Doc scoffed. “Don’t you see the danger, Randy, inherent in what you are doing here? Genetic power is the most awesome force ever seen on this planet. But you wield it like a kid who’s found his pappy’s gun.”

“Excuse me, but it’s hardly appropriate to start hurling—” Robert tried to interject, but Doc continued with no signs of slowing.

“I am telling you, the problem with the scientific power you’ve used is that it did not require any discipline to attain it. You read what others had done and you took the next step. You did not earn the knowledge yourselves, so you do not take the responsibility for it. You stood on the shoulders of geniuses to accomplish something as fast as you could, and before you knew what you had, you patented it, packaged it, slapped it on a plastic lunch box, and now you want to sell it.” Doc was agitated, and breathing heavy from banging his hand against the table.

“Now wait a damn minute there, Doc. You’re not giving credit where’s credit’s due. Our scientists have done things no one has attempted before,” argued Nedley.

“I can assure you. Our research is cutting edge,” added Jeremy meekly.

“Your scientists were so preoccupied with whether or not they could that they did not stop to consider if they should. Science can create pesticides, but it cannot dissuade us from using them. Science can make a nuclear reactor, but it cannot tell us not to build it!"

“But this is nature, for crying out loud! Why not give an extinct species a second go of it? I mean, condors. Condors were so recently extinct. If I’d created a flock of those buzzards on the island, I doubt you’d have your long johns in a twist!” Nedley practically growled.

“You cannot be serious—this is not some species that was obliterated by deforestation or the building of a dam. Dinosaurs had their shot. Nature selected them for extinction. Who are we to argue with that, Randy?”

“I can’t say I understand this attitude, especially from a scientist. I never took you for a luddite, Doc. A quack, maybe. But I never thought you’d be so against progress. How could we stand in the light of discovery and not do something about it?”

“Tell me truly, Randy, what is so goddamned magnificent about discovery? It is a violent, penetrative act that scars what it explores. What you call discovery, I call the rape of the natural world.”

“Aw, horsefeathers. I can’t believe what I’m hearing,” said Nedley, a bit deflated. “Anyone else wanna chime in? Waverly, surely you see the potential here.” 

Before speaking, Waverly stole a glance at Nicole, who had leaned forward, clearly interested in whatever she was about to say. “Well, the question is, how much can you actually know about an extinct ecosystem. And therefore, how could you assume you would be able to control it? You have plants right here in this building, for example, that are poisonous. You picked them because they look pretty, but these are aggressive living things that have no idea what century they’re living in and will defend themselves. Violently, if necessary.”

Exasperated, Nedley turned to Wynonna. “Dr. Earp, if there’s one person who can appreciate what I’m trying to do, it must be you.”

Wynonna slugged the rest of her wine, took a good long look around the table, and exhaled. “Frankly, Nedley, I think you must be off your meds. I mean it. Like, somewhere out there is a poor little nurse with a giant butterfly net just desperately looking for you. What did you think I was gonna say? Sure, some small part of me might be wondering what it would be like to ride a stegosaurus. But mostly I'm scared shitless. The world's changing, fast. Way too fast. And we’re just a bunch of assholes chasing after it, pretending we're in charge. Dinosaurs and man—two species separated by sixty-five million years of evolution—have just been thrown back into the ring together. Do you really think you have the slightest idea what’s going to happen when they duke it out?” 

“I don’t believe it. I really don't.” Nedley threw his hands in the air. “I expected you to come down here and defend me from these characters and the only one I’ve got on my side is the bloodsucking lawyer!”

“Aw, I’m touched, Randy,” said Robert, clapping him on the back.

“Well I, for one, am psyched about the whole thing, Mr. Nedley. The sooner we open, the sooner I get to try out my new stun gun,” said Champ.

"Not exactly the endorsement I was looking for, son. But still, I appreciate the enthusiasm.”

Nicole clenched her jaw but said nothing, an act of restraint that charmed Waverly even further. She was about to lean over and whisper something teasing into the redhead’s ear when a staff member rushed into the room with a message for Nedley.

“Yes, yes, of course. Gracias,” answered Nedley, who had perked up considerably. “Please excuse me. My daughter, Chrissy, and my grandson just landed. They’ll be joining us over the next few days. So I’ll leave you folks to the rest of your evening. But I ask that you please don’t stray far from the compound. At least, not without an escort. The bar and kitchen are fully staffed through tomorrow until we switch the skeleton crew, so order whatever you want. Test out the accommodations. And we’ll see you in the morning for the first tour. I know I’ve got my work cut out for me, but I’m determined to change your minds. Good night.” And just like that, he was gone.

“Christ, he looked like a kicked puppy,” said Wynonna as she scooted her chair away from the table.

Doc shook his head. “The man’s worth a few billion dollars. I think he can take it.”

“He’s a man with a vision,” said Jeremy solemnly, packing up his things. “Visionaries are usually misunderstood.”

“That’s what they said about Oppenheimer,” answered Doc with an edge to his voice that left little room for argument. Jeremy simply nodded once and left, looking a little kicked himself. Champ and Robert followed, still chitchatting about the security features in place around the compound. 

Wynonna stretched and sighed. “Well, this has been about as fun as a pelvic exam, but I, too, have a vision. And it involves a tumbler of whiskey and a fuzzy bath robe. So I’m heading back to my room. Would you, uh, care to join me, Doc? I don’t think I could sleep if I tried.”

“I could be persuaded for a night cap.”

“Excellent. . . . Baby girl, you coming?”

Waverly glanced cautiously at Nicole who stood tall and quiet next her, giving nothing away but a gentle half smile. “I’ll catch up.”

“Fair enough. But the whiskey waits for no one. See ya round, Red.” Wynonna strode out of the room with Doc close behind her, and the metal door slid shut behind them with a thunk, leaving Waverly and Nicole alone for the first time.

“So . . . Do you wanna come by for a drink with us?” asked Waverly after a brief silence.

“That’s not exactly what I had in mind.”

“Oh? And what did you have in mind then?” asked Waverly. The brazenness of the woman in front of her was both galling and beguiling. 

“Something a little less crowded," said Nicole, taking one step closer. “And a little more private."

“That’s mighty presumptuous considering I just met you a few hours ago.”

“I know. And if I’m off base, just say the word and I’ll leave you to your evening.” She searched Waverly’s eyes. "But I don’t think I am.”

“I see,” said Waverly, still hesitant to indulge in this particular flight of fancy. "And how did you come to that conclusion?”

“I don’t know. I just . . . feel it.” Nicole looked down at her shoes and back up, a portrait of innocence, but her darkened pupils told a different story.

“Jesus, has that line ever worked for you? How often do you do this?”

“Do what?” countered Nicole, in mock offense. 

“Try to seduce total strangers into one night stands on secluded tropical islands.”

“First of all, it’s not a line. Second of all, if I remember correctly, you’re here for three nights. And third, I’ve never done this. I don’t even know what I’m doing.”

“Bull. shit.”

“I don't! I swear, I haven’t, Waverly. Not like this. I just . . . There’s something about you, ok? I can’t explain it. It’s like, if I walk away right now without chasing this feeling, then I’m gonna miss something important.” Waverly didn’t have a witty response to that. “I don’t care what we do. We could just stay up and talk. But I know I’m not ready to say good night to you.”

“I . . . fuck. Just lemme think about it. Ok?”

“Of course, Waverly. There’s no pressure here. That’s not . . .” She shook her head. "I don’t want that.”

“Good,” said Waverly gently. 

“How about this. I’ll be in the lounge in the annex until 10. Come find me if that’s what you want. And if not, no harm no foul.”

Waverly couldn’t stop the slow grin from spreading over her face. “We’ll see,” she said over her shoulder as she walked out of the room, hoping to God she looked more confident than she felt. As soon as she was on the other side of the door, she leaned against the wall to collect herself. The last twenty-four hours had been a shock to her system, and she wasn’t entirely sure she was thinking clearly. Because after everything, a night alone with a mysterious red head didn’t seem ridiculous at all. There was really only one thing left to do. Drink.


End file.
